I have a certain reluctance to blogging on the subject of love. Today, however, I feel especially inclined to contend with my aversion because I’ve been accused of being in love. I couldn’t disagree entirely, except for the awareness I have that my definition and views on love are extraordinarily different from other people’s. I do not want to be charged with someone else's’ inference of the word. I don’t want the love I experience to be confused with some overused and diluted version. For me, love is not a feeling. Its not even a choice. LOVE is when you look into someones eyes and suddenly you go all the way inside, through their wounds and struggles... past their crimes and flaws... all the way to their soul, and you never want to leave.
I think this is why people get into relationships that don’t last. People want a feeling. They want to feel good and happy. The expectations start resting on the other to give that good an happy feeling and because humanity is frail, expectations are not always met. When you go all the way in to someone’s soul, its not about trying anymore. It just is.
I always imagined I'd fall in love nursing to health a blind soldier who was wounded in battle. Or maybe while rescuing someone in the middle of a blizzard, seconds before the avalanche hits. In a manner of speaking, I did. I thought it would be in more of a literal sense, but figuratively is no less true. Someone blind to their value and caught in the blizzard of heartache captured my heart some time ago. Their soul is a place of comfort to me. I haven’t left.
The luxury of love [by my definition] is that while it never dies, it can change with ease. The soul sees things and accepts things that the heart and mind cannot surrender to. A soul has incomprehensible space with which to grow in, while the mind and heart are enclaved in limited understanding and experience. You can be asked to stop loving someone or something and a soul knows what that means, it knows how to shift in compliance to the request and to still stay true to itself.
My kind of love exists in life and death and back into life. It survives the deepest darkest fog of pain, it celebrates the richest of joys.. and in its faithfulness, if you can make yourself still enough, it can be felt.
I think this is why people get into relationships that don’t last. People want a feeling. They want to feel good and happy. The expectations start resting on the other to give that good an happy feeling and because humanity is frail, expectations are not always met. When you go all the way in to someone’s soul, its not about trying anymore. It just is.
I always imagined I'd fall in love nursing to health a blind soldier who was wounded in battle. Or maybe while rescuing someone in the middle of a blizzard, seconds before the avalanche hits. In a manner of speaking, I did. I thought it would be in more of a literal sense, but figuratively is no less true. Someone blind to their value and caught in the blizzard of heartache captured my heart some time ago. Their soul is a place of comfort to me. I haven’t left.
The luxury of love [by my definition] is that while it never dies, it can change with ease. The soul sees things and accepts things that the heart and mind cannot surrender to. A soul has incomprehensible space with which to grow in, while the mind and heart are enclaved in limited understanding and experience. You can be asked to stop loving someone or something and a soul knows what that means, it knows how to shift in compliance to the request and to still stay true to itself.
My kind of love exists in life and death and back into life. It survives the deepest darkest fog of pain, it celebrates the richest of joys.. and in its faithfulness, if you can make yourself still enough, it can be felt.
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